thedragonandhisknight

The Dragon and his Knight

By M. Raiya

"No, we will not," Justin said firmly.
"I think we could," Wells said, zipping the little green

tent closed behind them and rising to his feet,
shouldering the small pack containing their essential
gear.

"But we will not," Justin said, leading the way into

the meadow before the tent.

Wells sighed and gazed at his master's retreating

body. Justin was gorgeous from all angles. Tall and dark
and wild and dangerous, even in human form.

Justin turned and walked backward through the early

morning mist, leaving tracks in the dew-soaked grass. "It
is not going to happen. It is too dangerous. I would not
be able to control myself. I would hurt you."

Wells smiled at his master's formal, clipped

sentences. After all these years, Justin had never really
perfected the art of speaking aloud. "Justin," Wells said.
"You wouldn't hurt me."

Justin tore at his long, dark hair in mock agony. "I

have failed! You do not fear me. You should obey my
every command without question. You--"

Wells fell to his knees and clasped his hands on his

breast. "I beg, I plead!" he cried. "I fear you! Please, o
master of my soul!"

Justin rolled his eyes. "No one else's knight gives him

these problems! What you beg for is my ultimate threat!
I could accidently kill you!"

"It matters not to me!"
"Well, it matters much to me. You are my chosen

link to the human world. Now, will you arise? We are
late."

Wells stayed on his knees.
"Fine! Remain here all week. With no food." Justin

turned and set off toward the middle of the field.

Wells watched the master of his soul walk away,

knowing Justin wasn't going very far. Sure enough, after
a  few  more  steps,  Justin  turned.  Wells  held  his  breath,
spellbound,  as  always,  when  his  lord  changed  form.  It
was fast, almost instantaneous. One moment, Justin was
human,  wild  and  tall  and  dark,  and  the  next  moment,
Justin was dragon, large and black and winged.

And incredibly desirable. Oh, in human form, Justin

was an incredible lover. But Wells wanted to feel the
whole press of Justin's dragon weight, the strength of his
thrusts, the deep roar of his passion bursting inside
him...

Justin growled and beat his satin-smooth wings,

baring his fangs, flexing his talons, making himself look
deadly, doing everything in his power short of breathing
flames at Wells to show how terrifying he could be.

It only turned Wells on even more. The sight of this

great,  plunging  beast  in  the  mist  almost  made  him
swoon  like  a  damsel  of  old  when  confronted  by  the
epitome  of  male  prowess.  Ironically,  as  Justin  began  to
move  closer,  muscles  all  aquiver  with  strength,  Wells
felt  the  degree  of  awe  Justin  wanted.  He  truly  did  feel
overwhelmingly  overpowered  by  this  creature  who  had
defeated him, not by tooth and talon, but by the beauty
of the soul behind the dark eyes. Enchanted, possessed,
hypnotized,  Wells  didn't  know  or  care.  He'd  laid  his
sword  at  the  dragon's  feet  -- the  first  dragon  he'd  ever
seen -- and sworn he would never hurt a creature of such
wonder.

And to his amazement, the huge dragon turned into a

man,  a  man  with  the  same  power  and  beauty  and  soul.
The  man  took  up  Wells's  sword  and  held  the  point  to
Wells's breast and drew blood, and Wells closed his eyes
and  opened  his  hands  and  offered  up  all  that  he  was  to
the incredible creature before him.

The dragon had not killed him, any more than he

could have killed it. Justin had taken Wells back to the
dragon lair to join the other knights captured by dragons
the  same  day.  The  humans'  purpose  was  to  serve  as
captive  guides  in  the  human  world,  which  the  dragons
were  preparing  to  enter  secretly,  in  disguise,  to  hide

from the knights who were hunting them to extinction.
But from the beginning, Justin's relationship with Wells
had been different. Wells was Justin's prisoner, yes, but
one who had surrendered rather than been taken.

And Wells had found that being a prisoner was

amazingly  freeing.  For  the  first  time,  he  had  freedom
from  the  medieval  manor,  where  daily  survival  was  a
struggle over food, disease, greed, and the cold power of
the  kings  in  their  castles  of  stone.  Now,  the  sky  and
wind  and  starlight  were  his  on  Justin's  back  with  the
dragon's great wings bearing them both aloft, alone, and
together  throughout  time  as  Justin's  magic  soaked  into
Wells and gave him magic and long life, too.

But never, in all those years, would Justin make love

to him while in his true form.

***

Two hours after they left the tent, they sat together in

history class.

It had been fifty years since they'd last felt the urge to

take part in human life, which they did occasionally just
to  remind  themselves  they  were  still  part  of  life  on
Earth,  even  though  it  had  long  since  turned  past  their
own  time.  Now  they  were  in  New  Hampshire,  in  the
United  States,  renting  an  apartment  in  a  college  town
near the coast, keeping the tent hidden in the mountains
far  away  where  they  could  spend  weekends  as
themselves.  It  had  been  Wells’  idea  to  register  for
classes  and  actually  go  to  them,  as  opposed  to  just
pretending  to  be  students,  since  they  both  still  looked
youthful.  He'd  always  wanted  to  study  history,  to  see
how it compared to the real thing, and by the third week,

he was completely caught up in the stories the professor
wove for the class.

It actually made him a little homesick.
Justin, cramped next to him in a small wooden desk

in  an  amphitheater  that  smelled  of  wet  carpet  from  the
damp day outside, rested his head on the wall and slept.
They'd  been  flying  in  the  moonlight  for  the  joy  of  it
most of the night, and then, after only a few hours rest,
they'd flown down to their apartment. Fortunately Justin
had  long  ago  mastered  the  art  of  hiding  them  from
human eyes, but it took strength to maintain invisibility.
They  hadn't  even  had  time  for  breakfast  before  class.
And now the strain was catching up.

When the professor, an old man with wispy, white

hair and leather patches on the elbows of his corduroy
jacket, called for a break, Wells saw Justin jerk awake
and then look around blearily.

"Sit," Wells said. "I'll get you some coffee."
"Right," Justin said, settling back down again.
Wells bought coffee and bagels at a cart parked on

the green just outside the history building's door. When
he went back inside, the professor had just woken Justin.
Wells could see the frustration in his master's body. He
hurried down the wide stairs in the center of the
amphitheater.

"I don't understand why you come here and sleep,"

the  professor  was  saying,  arms  folded.  Even  standing
up,  he  wasn't  much  taller  than  Justin  sitting  down.  "It's
been  three  weeks  now,  and  you  haven't  heard  a  word
I've  said.  It's  your  choice,  of  course,  but  your  grade  is
going to reflect it."

"My grade," Justin repeated, raising his eyebrows, as

though he couldn't believe such a thing had any
relevance.

"Yes, your grade, young man! You may be a

freshman, but believe me, these next four years are
going to fly, and you'll soon find yourself on the street
looking for a job. You'll wish your grades were better."

"A job," Justin said, raising his eyebrows even higher

and looking as though he were about to laugh. The last
thing they ever worried about was employment -- they
had a fortune in dragon treasure locked away in Swiss
banks, currently the best storage place. But Wells should
have given Justin more credit. He just nodded as though
the professor had a point.

"I think your lectures are very interesting," Wells

said, reaching them at last.

"Thank you." The professor gave him a smile, sent

Justin a frown, and returned to the lectern as the class
gathered again.

Justin took the cup of coffee Wells offered with a

scowl. He never thanked Wells, who was his prisoner
after all. "I can not endure this much longer," he
growled under his breath, then took a swallow.

Wells sighed. He'd known this wouldn't last. "Thanks

for trying."

Justin flashed him a quick frown, then unwrapped

one of the bagels. "And this is what?"

"It's a bagel. Bread. The white stuff is cream cheese.

It's delicious."

"No meat? I liked that thing with the ham and egg

you got last week."

"I'll get you a hamburger for lunch."
"Fine."
A couple nearby students stared. In fact, most of the

young women in the room had been staring at them --
Justin in particular -- for the last three classes. Justin
ignored them all, except one woman, who'd dared stare

at Wells the very first day. The look Justin had sent had
made her take a seat in back.

Justin took a bite of the bagel, chewed, and nodded.

"All  right."  Their  eyes  touched,  and  passion  kindled.
Justin did a sensuous thing with one hand as he brushed
his  wild  hair  out  of  his  eyes,  and  then  sent  Wells  a
sideways  look.  Heat  stirred  Wells’  groin.  Justin's
revenge, Wells thought. Justin would endure the rest of
the  class,  but  he'd  keep  Wells  in  a  state  of  arousal  the
whole time. It was one of Justin's many dragon talents.

This was going to be a long day. Wells opened his

thick  textbook  and  tried  to  focus  on  the  chapter  they'd
read for homework. Or rather, which he'd read aloud to
Justin.  He'd  taught  Justin  how  to  read  and  write  long
ago,  but  Justin  had  never  really  gotten  the  knack  of  it.
The  dragon  was  content  to  let  Wells  take  the  lead  in
dealing with things human.

And the human world had been worrying Wells

lately.  Exactly  why,  he  wasn't  sure,  but  this  worry  was
behind  the  reasoning  he'd  given  Justin  for  wanting  to
take  a  college  class.  Keeping  in  touch  with  the  human
world  had  been  Wells’  responsibility,  and  he'd  enjoyed
it,  making  use  of  the  excellent  memory  and  quick  wit
that  had  earned  him  a  knighthood  in  the  first  place.  At
first,  it  had  been  easy.  He  and  Justin  had  had  all  the
advantages.  Justin's  magic  and  the  ability  to  fly  had
given them the world, or so it felt.

But suddenly, humans could sail across the sea.

Justin  could  not  fly  that  far,  and  for  the  first  time,  the
two  of  them  had  used  a  human-made  device  for
something  they  could  not  do  on  their  own  -- reach  the
new world. Along with ships had come guns and trains
and  phones  and  electricity  and  planes  and  nuclear
bombs. They watched humans reach the moon and fight

wars that covered the whole planet, and in the last few
years, seen them develop computers that made time and
distance truly irrelevant. And it had all happened so fast.
Somehow, he and Justin had been pushed into the
mountains, but even the great woods of the world were
falling.

It was all making Wells so uneasy that he'd talked

Justin into going to school.

The professor coughed and started in again. Justin

settled  back  with  bagel  and  coffee,  brushing  his  leg
sensuously  against  Wells’  and  sending  another  rush  of
warmth  into  Wells’  groin.  Wells  tried  to  ignore  it  and
focus on the lecture, jeans getting tighter by the second.

"We're going to finish our lecture today on weapons

of the Medieval Period," the professor said, clicking on
a  projector  mounted  to  the  ceiling  and  touching  a  few
keys  on  his  computer.  The  screen  on  the  wall  was
suddenly  filled  with  the  images  of  swords,  spears,
lances, bows, and arrows.

Then the professor bent down, and Wells heard the

sound of something unzipping. After a moment, the
professor straightened. In his right hand was a sword.

Wells leaned forward intently.
Justin winced away.
It was a beautiful weapon. A reproduction, Wells

knew at once, of a sword made during the High
Renaissance, years after the Medieval Period, with fancy
filigree work and jewels set into the hilt. The professor
gave it a few glamorous and completely ineffectual
waves in the air, then laid it across the top of his lectern.

"Swords, of course, were the weapon of choice by the

knights, whom as you'll remember from last week, were
noblemen who owed their allegiance to a vassal, who in
turn served his king in return for a land grant, or fief. If a

king declared war on a neighboring kingdom, which he
often did, he would call on his vassals for support, and
they would ride to his side with their best knights."

A painting of a knight in armor filled the screen.

Memory  assailed  Wells.  Armor  had  been  horribly  hot,
heavy,  itchy  stuff,  but  oh,  the  glory  of  riding  up  to  the
castle,  the  serfs  bowing  and  bending  as  he  passed,
cheering him. In those days, he had ruled the world, or
so it seemed, encased in silver, bearing a sword his hand
and honor in his soul...

Justin made a very slight, mocking bow, and the sight

of Justin's lean, tanned fingers reaching toward him
made Wells draw a sharp breath and fight for control of
the arousal that had just been threatening before.

"In times of peace, a knight rode the countryside

upholding the king's laws and acting with chivalry, the
knight's code of honor. He would be expected to aid any
damsels in distress from the attack of marauders, or, of
course, the wayward dragon."

The professor put up a slide of a dragon about to

swoop down on an unsuspecting young woman working
in  a  field,  gathering  grain  into  her  apron.  The  dragon,
bright  red  and  gold,  actually  wasn't  too  far  off,  Wells
decided,  though  the  wings  weren't  quite  wide  enough
and the neck was too thick. He certainly recognized the
glint  in  the  creature's  eye  as  it  reached  for  its  prey.
Lucky girl, he thought wistfully. Justin could snatch him
any day.

The other students laughed at the whimsical painting,

nicely covering Wells’ shift of position as he gave up
fighting the inevitable and sought to merely hide it.
Justin was trying not to laugh. Wells distracted himself
with a sip of hot coffee.

The next painting showed the dragon impaled on the

lance of a knight who'd just arrived on the scene.

Wells choked on the coffee. The agony in the

dragon's eyes, the torture of his arched back, the painful
drag of the proud wings trailing to the ground… It
wouldn't have been so bad if Wells hadn't just seen
Justin's expression in his eyes.

Never Justin, no, never! Wells would die first! He

would kill anyone who tried to--

"Hey, easy," Justin said, leaning close.
Wells drew a shuddering breath and let Justin take

the  cup  as  he  tried  to  stop  choking.  The  other  students
were looking at them. "Sorry, sorry," he managed to say
around  his  coughs.  He  wondered  if  anyone  guessed  he
and Justin were a couple. At least here they wouldn't be
killed  outright.  He'd  lost  count  of  the  number  of  towns
they'd fled with Justin's magic to escape execution.

"Ah, yes, the fate of the poor dragons," the professor

said. "Wiped out by knights to the last one, or so a
person must believe considering there are no dragons
around today. If, of course, one believes in the whimsy
that they did, in fact, exist."

The professor put up another painting of a dying

dragon,  so  detailed  it  was  almost  photographic.  This
dragon,  too,  was  being  killed  by  a  knight,  who  was
sitting  boldly  on  the  dragon's  back,  pulling  its  head  up
with  one  hand  and  slitting  its  throat  with  the  other.
Wells took one look and came to his feet. Okay, enough
college,  he  decided.  Enough  humans.  They  could  blow
themselves  up  for  all  he  cared.  Back  to  the  tent  for
another fifty years. Hell, make it seventy-five.

He didn't count on Justin remaining in his seat,

staring at the picture.

"Let's go," Wells said under his breath, not caring

that the class was turning to them again.

"A moment," Justin said. Then he directed himself to

the professor for the first time. "This painting, when was
it made?"

"This year," the professor said. "It was done by one

of the art majors in this college."

"What year is it now?" Justin asked.
There was a sudden silence. "Ah, 2010," the

professor answered with raised eyebrows.

Justin's jaw dropped. Wells followed his master's

gaze to a timeline on the wall above the board. It started
with the ancient river valley civilizations and ended with
the present year. Wells had noticed it before, but it had
never really sunk in until that moment.

He and Justin were something like a thousand years

old!

Wells sank back into his seat, seeing shock on

Justin's face. Drawing a deep breath, Wells opened his
mind to Justin's and sent the words, We are all that
matter to each other.

Justin gave a little nod, then sent, How long has it

been since we have heard from any of the others?

The others, Wells knew, were the dozen or so dragon

and knight pairs who were living as they were. We saw
Aron and Dep at Christmas, a few years ago, he
answered. And Dep said they'd been in contact with
others in Europe recently.

But how many years has it been since that

Christmas?

Wells thought hard. There'd been a war on. Which

one? The one with that crazy little German man? No,
before that. The fighting had just been in this country.

The Civil War. That was it. He looked back at the
timeline.

A hundred and forty-five years ago.
Shit.
Everyone's just gotten busy, he said quickly.
Justin was staring at the painting on the screen again.

The agony of the dragon pulsated.

That is Aron, Justin said heavily.
No!
He is my brother. I ought to know.

***

Horror swept through Wells.
Remember, it is only a painting. Not a photograph,

Justin sent quickly. It could be that this is an imagined
scene. They might even have posed for it.

Wells drew his eyes from the dragon to his slayer.

Now  he  recognized  Dep's  blond  hair  and  heavy  build.
The  artist  had  even  gotten  the  scar  that  pulled  Dep's
mouth  slightly  out  of  shape.  Then  Wells  saw  a  gold
medallion  hanging  against  Dep's  chest  that  he'd  never
seen his friend wear before.

What is that medallion?
Justin shrugged slightly.
"Anyway, as I was saying," the professor went on,

clearly writing Justin off as a student with major issues
and  best  ignored,  "the  reason  I  showed  this  painting  is
because it was made by a student right here in this class,
a  student  who  is  majoring  in  medieval  studies  and  is
particularly  interested  in  the  mythical  dragons.  She  has
come  up  with  a  fascinating  theory  that  the  dragons
survived  by  taking  human  form  and  enticing  certain

unlucky men into becoming sort of human guides for
them."

Wells almost stopped breathing and felt Justin's

tension explode.

"Ms. Anna Montgomery," the professor said, smiling.

A young woman in the front row rose and gave an
embarrassed wave.

Wells caught his breath. She was the woman whom

Justin had glared at for staring at him on the first day.
She knew who they were!

"Thank you," Anna said with an English accent as

many people in the room clapped. She was tall, athletic,
and had an aristocratic face. Like the other students, she
wore jeans and a sweatshirt. Her long blonde hair was
tied back.

Who is she? Wells sent to Justin.
Danger, he sent back, eyes intent.
Wells didn't need Justin to tell him that. Dragon?
Justin shook his head, then asked him, Knight?
Impossible. She's female.
Though in this day and age, anything was possible,

Wells amended.

Had she known that the professor was going to show

her painting to the class? It was certainly a good tip off
to  them  about  her,  and  she'd  kept  her  secret  for  three
weeks.  Wells  doubted  that  she'd  known  the  professor
was going to do this. But now she must know that Justin
and  Wells  realized.  And  that  would  make  her  feel
cornered, and dangerous, as Justin had just said.

Still, the last thing Wells expected her to do was leap

out of her seat, seize the sword lying across the lectern,
and race up the wide stairs toward them.

But she did.

Wells acted on instinct. He and Justin were cornered

where they sat at the end of a row, halfway up the room,
right  next  to  the  wall.  Wells  knew  he  had  to  get  out  of
there,  out  to  the  stairs  where  there  was  room  to
maneuver. He sprang up, drawing the dagger he always
kept  in  his  right  boot  despite  the  campus  rules  on
weapons, and ran to meet her, scattering backpacks and
books  and  water  bottles  as  he  went.  People  screamed,
but  he  ignored  them,  just  as  he  ignored  Justin's  shout.
All he could think about was stopping her from plunging
that sword into Justin's throat.

Wells made it to the end of the row just as she made

it to his level. Dagger met sword with a clash of metal.
The sword was a better reproduction than it looked, and
she was a better fighter than he'd hoped. He heard Justin
bellowing, "Out! Everybody out!" and had time to flash
on the irony that the dragon was urging the humans to
safety while the knights fought in the midst of them.

Then he lunged for her with the knife. He might have

the experience, but she had the better weapon. He
couldn't afford to be gallant.

"No!" she cried, parrying his blow. "Wells, listen to

me! I am not your enemy! I'm here to save you! He's had
you ensorcelled for centuries! You looked into his
eyes!"

Wells saw an opening and darted in under her guard.

But to his surprise, she didn't fall back, she leapt
sideways, and before he knew what she was doing, she
slipped a chain around his neck with her left hand. A
heavy gold medallion banged against his chest, and with
its touch, everything changed.

The world went dark and cold.
No! he heard Justin shout.

He turned and saw Justin, who'd been running down

the stairs toward them -- somehow they'd made their
way to the flat surface of the floor -- come to a halt
about five steps away.

"Let him go!" Justin ordered.
"No closer, or I kill him!" she shouted.
Justin froze.
And Wells felt dark and coldness sinking into his

heart. Where there had been warmth and love, now there
was nothing.

The woman grabbed Wells’ unresisting body and

turned him away. "A knight's biggest mistake," she said,
her words melodic in her accent, "is to look a dragon in
the eyes. You knew that, Wells, but you did it anyway.
Did you think you could be stronger? Did you mean to
test yourself, or was it a mistake?"

"I -- don't -- remember," Wells heard himself say far

away in the cold. Oh, it was so cold, so lonely.

"Don't worry," she said. "It'll take time, but you'll

learn to be your own again. But first, we must finish
him. We'll do it together."

"Together," Wells repeated. "The Brotherhood of

Knights." It had been so long.

"Yes," she said. "That's it."
Outside, someone banged on the closed door.

"Security! Open up!" The door rattled but stayed shut.
Justin's magic held it. Wells knew the door would not
open again until Justin willed it or died.

"What's going on?" the professor croaked. He hadn't

fled with the students but remained behind his lectern,
clinging to it as though it were a life raft.

"History, unfolding before you," Anna said. She

raised the sword toward Justin. "This is the last and
greatest dragon alive. He has killed many humans and

kept this one under his spell for centuries. You are about
to see him meet his end."

The professor gaped at Justin, who ignored him.
"Damn you," Justin said to her.
Anna laughed tauntingly. "Come ahead! Kill him

now, if you can. Before Wells takes this sword and
finishes what he began a thousand years ago. You'd
better hurry before he finds his strength. Because he will
have no compunction against killing you this time."

"Damn you!"

"You can't kill him, can you, mighty dragon? You're

in love with a knight. You'll just stand there and let him
slay you. Your brother fought, but then, he didn't feel as
deeply for Dep as you do for Wells, did he? But that
won't matter, because Wells feels nothing for you now,
and never did, really."

Wells felt the heaviness of the medallion around his

neck. "What is this?" he asked weakly.

"It is an old, holy medal from your own time, and so

it broke the evil spell holding you," she answered. "The
power of good over evil."

"Evil?" he asked. Everything was so bleak and empty

and cold when before it had been warm. How had that
wonderful warmth been evil?

"The right path is not always the easy one," she said.

"You're a knight. You know that. He has lured you into
sinful ways."

Justin growled and changed form. Wells sensed the

darkly familiar dragon take to the air. Drafts from his
wings sent papers flying and blew Anna's long hair.
Wells did not look at Justin as he flew over their heads
to land near them. Wells heard a thud and saw that the
professor had slumped to the floor. "Mother of God," the
man whispered in awe. "A dragon!"

The woman knight grinned at Justin. "Oh, excellent,"

she said. "Will you give us a good fight, or will you just
lay your head in his lap?"

Wells glanced at Justin, careful to keep his gaze away

from  the  dark,  mysterious  eyes.  He  remembered  the
touch  and  taste  of  the  dragon,  remembered  the  desire
Justin  could  stir  in  him  with  just  a  glance.  He
remembered his longing to feel Justin in this form, too.
Now all was cold and alone. Unendurable. Wells had to
end  this.  He  raised  his  dagger  again.  Anna  raised  her
sword. The two knights slowly marched toward Justin.

As they reached him, Justin turned back into human

form.

"Prepare to die," Anna said.
"I ask you please to consider a moment," Justin said

quietly, opening his hands to her. "How do you plan to
remain free after my death? The moment I cease to
breathe, those doors shall unlock, and this room will fill
men at arms. You will be holding a sword covered with
my blood."

"No, Wells is going to be holding a dagger covered

with your blood," she said. "But there will be no body,
because dragons vanish the moment they die. I've done
my research. Not to worry, Wells. I know people in high
places who'll get you off for having a weapon on
campus."

"Despite witness who saw you draw the first

weapon?" Justin asked.

"My lawyers can handle it. But you won't have to

worry, Justin, will you?"

"No. And you are right in the fact that I cannot hurt

Wells. Believe it or not as you wish, I will not hurt you,
either. Not because you're a woman -- I always laughed
at the thought of chivalry -- but because I have come to

care for your kind. Wells taught me more than how to
read and speak."

"While you had him under your power. Admit it."
"Freely. I don't expect you to understand our

relationship. My point is that it is not yet too late for you
to walk from here. Put down the sword. I will say
nothing. You can tell the humans this was your semester
project, to bring the Medieval Period to life."

She laughed. "Are you insane?"
"No, Anna, I assure you I am not."
"No way."
"I thought you would say that," Justin said with a

sigh. "So I suggest you prepare to die."

"Me?" She laughed scornfully.
"Because while we have been talking, Wells has

removed the medallion and looked into my eyes again."

"Oh, shit!" she cried and whirled.
Wells smiled, raised the dragger, and would have

buried it in her chest if Justin had not said, "No! Wells,
do not!"

Wells froze, because his master bade him to. And it

felt so incredibly good to have to. Everything was all
warm and love again.

"Give me the knife and the medallion."
Wells handed them both over. They vanished

instantly. "You did not have the knife," Justin said, and
Wells believed him. Then Justin pointed at the
professor, still sitting on the floor, awestruck. "You are a
good man," Justin said. "I will not take your memory,
but I will require your silence on what you have seen."

"You have it," the professor whispered.
And then, before Anna could react, the doors burst

open and police swarmed in. Anna stood, sword in hand,
facing two unarmed men, with the professor on the

floor. Within moments, she was borne screaming in fury
from the room.

***

Wells let Justin gather him close. Wells’ instincts

said to deal with the people crowding around, not to let
his guard down now, especially in public, but he sensed
that  for  the  first  time  in  a  long  time,  if  ever,  Justin
needed  him.  Needed  to  hold  him.  And  Justin's  needs
always  took  precedence  over  everything.  So  Wells
wrapped  his  arms  around  Justin's  neck  and  pressed
close,  allowing  himself  to  be  held  so  tightly  that
breathing almost ceased to be possible.

"You were gone," Justin said softly.
"It was terrible," Wells whispered back.
People pressed around, tried to interrupt them, but the

humans were no more than flies pestering.

"You love me," Justin said. He sounded as though the

idea astounded him.

"Well, yeah," Wells said.
"You actually took the medallion off so that you

could become mine again!"

Wells tipped his face to Justin's. "You didn't know

that I love you?"

Justin hesitated a moment. I always feared I was

forcing you to.

You own my heart, yes, Wells said. But it was freely

given. Always.

Justin swept him into a kiss like Wells had never felt

before.

"Excuse me," someone said insistently and tapped

Wells on the shoulder.

Justin growled deep in his chest.

Wells felt a surge of warmth shoot through him and

didn't stop kissing.

"Oh, just leave them alone," someone else said. "A

couple minutes of what they're doing is worth hours of
psychologists."

Wells couldn't have agreed more. Justin's mouth was

taking Wells places he'd never been in a thousand years,
as though a dam in Justin had just burst. For the first
time Justin was completely and totally giving himself up
in a way that Wells had never realized had been missing
until it was suddenly there. He might be Justin's knight,
but now, for the first time, Justin was his dragon, too.

Forever, they both said in each other's minds at the

same time.

"Yes, but they're both victims of traumatic violence,

and the sooner they begin processing, the better."

Wells wanted to laugh at that. The real trauma they'd

experienced  today  was  not  something  he  was  going  to
share  with  anyone.  Thinking  about  that,  however,
caused  some  worrying  thoughts  to  begin  to  worm  back
into his mind. Who was this woman? How had she done
what she did? And were Aron and Dep really dead?

I will go deep and try to find out, Justin sent to his

mind. Cover for me.

Okay. If you make contact with Aron, try to get a

telephone number for them.

Justin sent acknowledgment, though Wells wasn't

sure Justin knew what a telephone was. Then Justin
went motionless as he sent out his mind in a search for
his brother's. Wells tried to make it look at though they
were still sharing an intimate moment, even though one
of them was now miles away. Fortunately, it didn't take
Justin long to return. His muscles gave a slight spasm
and his breathing caught, then he raised his head.

They are safe, was all he said. And I have a number

to call later.

Wells felt a surge of relief. She had lied. Her painting

had not been real.

Do we stay, or do we disappear? Justin asked.
Wells had been wondering the same thing. Justin

could make an entire village forget that they had seen a
dragon,  so  he'd  have  little  trouble  making  a  handful  of
people  forget  what  had  happened.  But  this  time  it  was
different.  For  the  first  time,  ever,  Wells  felt  as  though
they belonged. It was a very strange sensation.

Can we stay? he asked, since Justin was his master.
Justin hesitated, then answered, I think she was

wrong. Our time once was long ago, but this new time is
ours, as well.

***

"Why didn't you let me kill her?" Wells asked that

night, sitting across from Justin at the table in their
sparsely

furnished

apartment,

eating

take-out

hamburgers and fries and drinking milkshakes. His knife
was back in his boot.

Justin tried to tear open another package of ketchup,

but he didn't have the right technique and it sprayed
everywhere. Wells wiped it up, opened another one, and
put it on Justin's third hamburger.

"Because of you," Justin said. "You were a knight

once, and you turned out quite well. There might be
hope for her. And she was right. I did kill many people.
I did not like the feeling, and I would not have you feel
blood on your hands, too. Besides, this country has laws,
and she was breaking them. I had no desire to do the
same."

Wells nodded slowly.
"Yes. I want to start living through time, Wells, not

moving through it."

Wells froze in the act of opening another ketchup.

"You don't want to give up being a dragon, do you?"

Justin laughed. "Never. You know that is not even

possible. But I do not think we should isolate ourselves
again. There is too much changing."

"I've been sensing that, too."
"That professor," Justin said. "I like him. And I trust

him. That is a new feeling for me. One which I like.
There is bad in this world, but there is good as well."

"There always has been," Wells said quietly.
Justin nodded slowly. Then they looked at the cell

phone on the table beside them. Wells had bought it that
afternoon,  as  soon  as  they  had  given  the  police  their
statements.  But  they  were  oddly  unwillingly  to  use  it.
Wells  knew  they  feared  to  find  out  that  there  was
another crusade underway of knight against dragon.

Still, they needed to know.
"Do it," Justin said to him.
Wells entered the number Justin gave him and hit

send, then handed it to Justin, who held it to his ear
awkwardly. Wells leaned closer to listen.

After a moment, a voice cried, "Justin!"
Wells felt a surge of relief as he recognized Aron's

deep, dragonish voice coming through the phone. He
rested his forehead on Justin's shoulder to listen.

"Aron?" Justin asked. "Your voice is strange this

way."

"Yes, it is I! This new technology has its

amazements, does it not?" He paused a moment, then
asked, "Are you all right, my brother? For days, we have
been trying to reach you."

"We are safe," Justin said quickly. "But we saw a

painting of Dep murdering you."

"Ha! Unholy woman who calls herself a knight! She

showed  us  a  similar  painting  of  you,  not  three  weeks
ago."  Aron's  melodic  voice  held  deep  emotion.  "She
tried to get a golden medallion upon Dep, but he foiled
her,  and  she  took  to  flight  in  one  of  those  damned  air
vehicles, and I could not catch her. You?"

"She got a medallion upon Wells, but just for a few

moments. She has been arrested by one of those
uniformed guards -- I forget the word. Police, yes. They
will deal with her. Is everyone else all right?"

"Yes. I put out a warning, and when Greyson and

Paulet saw her coming, they fled. I tried to find you, but
no one in Alaska knew who you were."

"We left there long ago. Is she working alone?"
"I believe so. But it would be good to destroy that

infernal medallion."

"I will take care of it," Justin said.
"Have a care."
"I shall indeed. Aron, we should contrive to meet in

person. The world is becoming strange."

"Agreed. Keep this phone with you. We will arrange

it."

"I want to talk to Dep," Wells said quickly.
"A moment," Justin said into the phone. "Wells

would like to speak with Dep."

"Dep?" Aron asked, as though wondering why. "Very

well. Dep, leave that. Wells would like a word with you.
Quickly, now."

Justin handed Wells the phone. Through it, he could

hear what sounded like fabric rustling, then footsteps,
and then Dep's soft, quaking voice. "Hello?" he asked
timidly.

"Dep," Wells said quickly. "Are you all right?"
"Yes. Certainly."
"Don't wad up my cloak like that!" Wells heard Aron

snap. "Give it here!" There was more sound of fabric.

Wells had been going to ask Dep for his thoughts on

the female knight, but Wells decided not to bother with
minor details. There was a much more important
question. "Dep, does Aron ever make love to you in
dragon form?"

Justin gave a startled gasp. Wells ignored him.
Dep didn't answer. Wells decided it had been too

personal a question when Dep said softly, "What other
way is there?"

"Ah, you know. As humans."

Another pause. "You mean, with Aron in human

form?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, no. He hates that. He only changes when

necessary. He would never be in that mood when he's
human."

"So you do it in his real form, then? And he doesn't

hurt you?" Wells was ready to shoot Justin a triumphant
look, but Dep's words froze him.

"Of course it hurts. Often I am weeks, recovering.

Wells, are you saying Justin never has his pleasure with
you? He uses you only as a guide?" Dep sounded
envious.

Wells heard Aron growl in the background, and an

instant later, he came back on the phone. "Wells! Give
me Justin, now!"

Wells handed over the phone, deeply shocked.

Justin's frown deepened.

"Justin, what ails your prisoner, asking such

questions? You are too lenient! Dep serves my needs
well. I do not want him stirred up!"

Justin looked furious. For a moment, Wells wasn't

sure who he was angry with – him, or Aron.

"You are my elder brother," Justin said icily. "I

respect you. How you manage your prisoner is up to
you. But how I manage mine is up to me."

"Well, keep yours off the phone! Until we meet

again!"

The phone call ended.
"Shit," Wells said. "I'm sorry."
Justin frowned and closed the phone. Wells felt his

heart beating strangely. Many things which he thought
he understood, now he was not sure about any longer.

"You attacked her with just a knife," Justin said, not

looking at Wells.

Wells tried to follow Justin's thoughts, but this was

one of those times that dragon-logic lost him.

"A knife, against a sword. To defend me," Justin

said.

"Well, the time we were attacked by that grizzly

outside Fairbanks, I was glad to leave the fighting to
you. Justin--"

"I think that my brother does not, in fact, manage his

knight well." Justin turned to look at Wells. "I love you,
Wells."

Wells felt his heart filling. "I love you, too."
Justin surprised him by standing up. "Let us fly."
"Now?"
Justin led the way outside into the warm, dark

evening.  Their  apartment  was  on  the  ground  floor  with
an  open  field  outside  the  back  door,  which  was  why
they'd  chosen  it.  Justin  changed  without  a  word,  and

Wells  climbed  up  onto  his  back  with  practiced  ease,
stretching  forward  and  slipping  underneath  the  wide
leather  straps  Justin  wore.  As  soon  as  Wells  was
comfortable,  Justin  tightened  the  loops  with  magic,
binding  them  so  close  that  Wells  would  not  fall  no
matter what aerial antics Justin performed. The position
was so secure and comfortable that Wells often slept on
long flights.

Tonight he stayed awake. Justin flew back into the

mountains,  dim  shapes  of  darkness  below  the  star-
pierced  blackness  of  sky.  Wells  watched  for  planes,
though he knew Justin would hear one before he could.
A  satellite  crossed  the  sky,  a  new  feature  of  this  world
where the humans ruled all that they could see and even
that  which  they  couldn't  see.  Humans  who,  today,  had
found a way between him and Justin.

And yet that had made them closer.
They landed in the meadow outside the tent, all still

and  quiet,  just  as  they'd  left  it  that  morning.  Justin
released  the  straps  and  Wells  slid  to  the  ground.  In  the
moonlight the dragon shone silver. Wells ran his hands
over  the  smooth,  soft  hide,  glorying  in  the  fact  that  he
still  could.  Ah,  if  that  sword  had  slit  Justin's  throat
today, his own heart would have ceased to beat as well.
He  would  have  willed  it  to  stop  rather  than  live  even a
breath longer than Justin.

Justin dipped his head so that the crook of his jaw

rested  over  Wells’  right  shoulder,  and  Wells  leaned
against him. It was one of their favorite positions. Wells
stroked  the  great,  gentle  head,  lightly  touching  Justin's
eyelids  and  the  silky  skin  around  his  nostrils.  He  loved
to feel Justin's deep, hot breath. For a long time they just
breathed together.

Then Wells ducked out from beneath Justin's neck

and  moved  around  to  stand  facing  him.  He  always
thought  Justin  should  smell  spicy,  and  he  was  always
surprised  to  find  the  dragon's  breath  was  like  sweet
lavender, utterly good. He wanted to feel that breath all
over  his  body,  so  he  pulled  off  his  clothes  and  stood
naked. Even if he never felt more, this was wonderful in
itself. Justin's forked tongue flicked out snake-like, thin
and  rapid,  and  its  tentative  touch  on  his  chest  almost
brought Wells to his knees.

"Please," Wells whispered, and the tongue flicked

across  his  stomach.  And  then  all  the  arousal  Wells  had
felt  that  morning  in  class  flooded  back.  The  tongue
touched  him,  wrapped  around  him,  and  then,  abruptly,
Wells  felt  the  dragon's  tongue  drawing  him  in,  sharp
teeth against his hardness.

If Justin meant to frighten him, it didn't work.
"Oh, Justin!" he whispered. "Oh, please, I beg you!

You have never been like Aron. You will not hurt me."

For another moment Justin hesitated, then his mouth

opened  and  released  him.  Wells  sank  to  the  soft  grass.
As he lay down on his stomach, Justin moved over him
and wonderful, warm weight covered him. And then he
felt  it,  what  he'd  always  longed  to  feel.  The  dragon's
erection. Hot and far longer than a man's, but not much
bigger  around,  it  probed  his  back  first,  then  shifted
lower and found the place. Wells braced himself, unable
to  bear  the  moment,  so  erect  he  thought  he  would
explode from this alone.

He cried out as Justin hesitated, trying to deny Wells

one last time. Wells thrust upward. Justin lost the battle
and slid in, and in, and in, and Wells screamed as Justin
filled and filled him. Heaviness pressed him into the
ground and all went dark and there was no air. Part of

Wells  started  to  panic  -- crushed  to  death,  smothered!
Justin had not been able to control the passion after all!
But  then  ecstasy  shot  through  him  as  Justin  came  deep
inside  his  body.  He  felt  the  hot,  tight  spurts  of  release,
and then his own burst out, and their minds caught and
reflected  each  other's  and  everything  exploded  and  if
this  was  death,  Wells  thought  it  well  worth  waiting  a
thousand years for.

But it wasn't death. He woke hours later when the sun

rose, curled protectively against Justin's side, under the
shelter of one wing, and he sighed and lay still, utterly
safe and at peace with his world.

End.

Notice, The Dragon and the Mistletoe, A Sky Full of

Wings, Origin (in the Shifting Steam Anthology)

The Dragon and His Knight

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used
or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written
permission except in case of brief quotations embodied
in critical articles or reviews. For information address
Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX
78680

Printed in the United States of America.

Torquere Press, Inc.: Sips electronic edition / January
2013

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press,
Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680